


Cat Burglar

by Louffox



Category: Jacksepticeye RPF, Markiplier RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: AU, Cute, Funny, Goddamn crazy cats, Humor, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Mark wanted was a dog. What he thought he got was a cat. What he ACTUALLY got was a monster.</p><p>(Seriously that cat brought him THIS CLOSE to getting killed to death. Monster.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat Burglar

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a prompt on my dash on tumblr once and it's kind of stuck in my head so I maked this!
> 
> Prompt at the end to prevent spoiling the fun!

This was in response to a prompt I saw a while ago come across my dash. I didn’t save it, but later I remembered it and I just couldn’t not do it. If anyone can find the prompt, link this in it!!

Summary: Mark wanted a cat. What he got was a monster. Seriously, she’s bringing him _this close_ to getting killed.

* * *

 

Mark loved animals. Mostly dogs. But he really liked cats too, and he was at a point in his life where he knew having a dog was not ideal. He was still in his tiny apartment in the city, on the fifth floor. He worked 8-5 every day, sometimes more. Dogs took training and lots of time and attention. They took frequent exercise and walks and needed to be taught not to bite or jump on people and how to behave. And there was no way in hell that he would have an untrained dog. That was dangerous and irresponsible.

(Mark, irresponsible? Nah. He was never irresponsible, he wouldn’t do irresponsible things... like open a window without a screen.)

So he got a cat. She was three years old, fairly obese, completely orange, and curious to a fault. Her name was Rox, short for Roxanne. (Not Rox like rocks, like what she felt like on his chest when he woke up with her nearly crushing him.)

He loved her to death. But this was not what he’d intended.

He had just wanted an animal. Some companionship. Someone to come run to the door when he got home and to genuinely care about him and be happy to see him. Someone at home, another living, breathing, sentient soul sharing a space.

The first time he opened a drawer to get some clean boxers for his shower, she suddenly was in the drawer and then behind it, back inside the dresser so he couldn’t get her out and couldn’t close the drawer without crushing her. For a fat cat, she was quick. He thought she’d get back out- but then she’d started meowing.

He believed that if she’d gotten herself in there, then she ought to be able to get herself back out. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. So he had to pull the drawer completely out of the dresser, retrieve her, and keep her from getting back in while he tried to get the drawer back in it’s runners properly.

He was woken up at 3 AM to whiskers tickling his face and a rough tongue licking his ear. That was unsettling. She would lean right in to his face and sit there and huff little teeny breaths on him for several seconds, and then would lick him and dart back, because she knew he hated that and would thrash to get her away. A few minutes later, she’d repeat the process. It was infuriating.

She would get up on the countertop. He’d pick her up and put her on the floor. She’d jump back up. He’d put her back down. She’d jump back up. He’d put her back down. It repeated nearly a dozen times before he had to get the spray bottle.

He was watching TV and heard an awful crash from his bedroom, and ran in to find she’d somehow pulled several large books off the shelf.

He had to get a lid for his bathroom garbage because she liked to take out dirty q-tips.

He had to tape down all the wires for his computer and any other wires in the house because she would chew them to death.

 _This isn’t a cat, this is a goddamn gremlin_ , he thought wildly one day as he tried to tie a sneaker and she attacked the wiggling laces.

But he had no idea how much trouble she was until the Day of Trespassing, as he mentally referred to it.

It was early spring, and the sun was shining. He hadn’t put the screens back in his windows after the winter, but he really wanted to let some of that lovely air in, so he opened a few anyways, before going back to house cleaning. The cool fresh air felt nice as mopped his kitchen floor. But something was… different. It wasn’t just the fresh air.

Usually, when he mopped, Roxanne chased it like a lunatic. But she was nowhere in sight.

“Roxie?” Mark called. “Roxie! Here kitty kitty!”

No response. No yowling, no fat-cat-thumping-footsteps. Nothing.

He went and got her jar of treats and shook that, sure she’d come running. Nothing.

His stomach lurched as he suddenly knew with nauseating certainty where she’d gone.

The windows.

All his windows just went out into open air, 8 stories up, except one. One window was at his balcony, right beside the door. He’d kept the door closed, but the window was open… He ran out onto the balcony and looked around wildly. Where could she have gone? They were eight stories up!

He looked down, horrified and sure she’d jumped (ohgodohgod I’m so sorry I called her a gremlin, she was a lovely cat,) and realized there was a balcony opposite of his, on the neighboring building, down a bit. A few plants swayed in the breeze. One plant pot had been knocked over and was broken.

Fucking hell. This was bad. Panicked about the situation, he only could see one option, and he went for it.

Over his balcony. Down onto the next.

He climbed over his railing and carefully lowered himself down with his arms as far as he could before dropping the rest of the way. His bare feet hit the balcony with a soft sound, but there was no pain and no racket. He looked up and saw the door was ajar. Of course. Because Rox couldn’t just find a neighboring balcony to explore- she had to find the neighboring balcony with an open, inviting door into an apartment as well.

He went in carefully, quietly. _I’ll just grab her and go_ , he thought hysterically. _Nobody has to know about this._

Calling for her was out of the question- he’d have to find her. The apartment was slightly similar to his own- he was in a living room a little smaller than his. Couches and chairs. A wood floor with a big black and green throw rug in the middle. A three-canvas painting above the couch- was that art from Colossus?

He moved quietly into the next room, looking around for his gremlin.

He didn’t see Rox- he saw stars instead.

It took a moment of lying on the floor to realize that he was on the floor- and to realize that he’d been hit in the back of the head. Like, _really_ hard.

“Don’t fucking move!” The speaker sounded heavily irish, male, and high-pitched with tension.

Mark was happy to oblige- his head pounded and his hands hurt where he’d landed on them. He lifted his fingers weakly in a gesture of surrender, afraid to even turn around.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his assailant asked. Mark realized this was probably the owner of this apartment. Figures, Rox would land in the apartment of some whack-a-mole-wanna-be crazy man. It couldn’t just be a polite old lady’s apartment, could it? Of course not.

“I’m just looking for my cat,” he replied, knowing as it came out his mouth that it sounded crazy.

“That sounds crazy and I’m not buying it,” the man affirmed. “More like you _are_ the cat. Cat _burglar_!”

Mark let his head flop back on the floor. “Jesus christ. No. I’m seriously just looking for my cat. I live in the building beside yours, and I had my windows open even though I don’t have screens yet, and she went out on my balcony and jumped down to yours and went in your open door.”

“This is ridiculous,” the man groaned. “I’ve never been robbed before. I should probably call the cops now, right?”

“No, please! I’m telling the truth!” Mark cried, frustrated. This is what a man gets for being honest.

“Prove it! Where’s the ‘cat’?”

“The hell would I know? You beat my brains out my nose before I could find her!”

“Don’t be a baby, you’re fine,” the man scoffed.

“Rox! C’mere, Rox!” Mark called.

“Jay-zus, you really are crazy,” the man groaned.

“I’ve got to do it in the kitty voice or else she won’t come!” Mark defended. “Roxie! Rox-annie girl!”

“Ohmygodyouweren’tkidding.”

Mark laughed with relief and laid his head on the floor gently as Rox padded over and sniffed his face with the proper disdain for a giggling man on a floor.

“Wow. Wow. _Wow_ ,” the man said, a laugh in his voice. “This is so ridiculous. Fuck. You can get up, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Mark staggered to his feet and scooped Rox into his arms- to protect her or to protect himself, he wasn’t sure. Having caused more than enough trouble for the moment, she was content in his arms.

“It is pretty ridiculous,” Mark agreed, getting his first good look at the man. He was skinnier than he’d thought, and was only his height. Mark wasn’t sure what he’d imagined, lying there with his head throbbing and wondering if this irish man would kill him- more brawn? Mark realized he probably could’ve taken this guy down in a fight, and it made him laugh all the harder. Pinned by a reedy irish kid.

“Man, I feel really bad about hitting you- I’m so glad I didn’t call the cops.”

“Yeah, me too.” Mark leaned over to peer out the window of the room he was in- a kitchen- to look at his building. Up at his balcony. “I haven’t got a clue how I’m going to get back into my apartment. I left my keys there and I don’t think I’d be able to make the climb back.”

The man peered out and up, and shuddered. “Yikes. No way. Wait- how did you think you were going to get back when you jumped down?”

“I hadn’t really gotten that far,” Mark chuckled. “Well, this has all been… stupid.”

“Pretty much,” the man laughed. “I’m Jack, by the way. You could call your building super, or your neighbors?”

“Daniel and Ryan are my neighbors, they’ve got a spare key for moments like this- well, maybe not exactly like this, but for if I got locked out- but they’re out this afternoon. Won’t be back till 3.”

“You can hang out here till then. You’ve only got an hour and a half. I think I owe you a little bit of hospitality after, y’know, beaning you over the head with a snow globe.”

Mark looked at his hand- yep, it was a snow globe. A reedy irish kid and a snow globe was his downfall.

“Do you, er, want a cup of coffee?” Jack asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That’d be great, thanks. I’ve gotta ask- was that a Colossus painting in your living room?”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't recall the exact words of the prompt, but it was an OTP one and it went something like:  
> "I swear I'm not a thief my cat just wandered in your open window, I'll just grab her and go, I'm really sorry I broke into your house"


End file.
